This is Where I Draw the Line, the Infection Must Die
by Vita Fidens
Summary: Sequel to "That's Enough Now, Dry Your Tears." Liz Moore has reached the tipping point with Dean Ambrose. An unsurprising revelation just pushes her over the edge and she knows it's time to do something. Rated M: Language, sex, violence.
1. Chapter 1

As if my week couldn't possibly get any worse, Paul and I had to have a meeting with none other than the gentlemen of 787 Studios.

Last year's game had been a success, and since we had only signed a one-year contract, we were up for renegotiation. Paul blatantly admitted that he was nervous about bringing me to the table, but he also admitted that he just didn't know enough about the video game aspect of the business to be a strong negotiator.

I'd had enough insight into the company during my time with David, and I knew that Rick was the one I had to convince. Not that it would be easy either way, but at least Rick hadn't seen me naked. That particular bargaining chip was still on the table, I thought wryly.

The meeting honestly didn't go as badly as I'd expected. It had been a few months since I'd seen David, and we were actually quite cordial to one another. The agreement was struck pretty quickly, and I walked out of that room feeling much better about life. I'd seen David in the flesh. I'd survived it. Maybe I was finally starting to move on.

I hung around and chatted with Rick for a few minutes, letting Paul handle David. I might be moving on, but I didn't need to be that close to him yet.

"You seem really happy, Lizzy," Rick surprised me by saying. "New boyfriend treating you right?"

I managed a smile. "No new boyfriend. But I am pretty happy."

Rick raised an eyebrow. "Dave mentioned that you had some dude with you on New Years' Eve."

I shook my head. "Just a friend. He was helping keep me and Dave separated – I didn't really want a scene."

Rick nodded. "I gotcha." He glanced over my shoulder, where David and Paul were in deep conversation. "You know he misses you," he said, nodding towards Dave.

I shrugged uncomfortably. "Not my problem, Rick. It was his decision."

"Yeah, and he only made it because you weren't ever going to leave here."

"Who told you that?" I asked, genuinely confused. "I was actually planning on leaving the night he dumped me on my ass."

Rick's brow furrowed. "He didn't say who told him, but he said that he'd heard from someone that you were saying how happy you were to travel and that it wasn't fair of him to ask you to stop. He thought it over and agreed; that's why you two split up – he wanted to make it easier on you."

I shouldn't have been surprised to hear that. I shouldn't have been at all angry or upset. I should have, in fact, known better.

That didn't stop me from being incredibly pissed off.

I had an idea who had given these ideas to David.

And he was going to pay in spades.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a few weeks before I could begin the process of exacting my revenge on Dean Ambrose. He'd fucked with my life for the absolute last time, and it had gone beyond the point where he deserved a taste of his own medicine.

I wasn't quite sure what to do at first, but then he handed me a golden opportunity.

We'd been a bit distant since the night in my hotel room. I tried to surround myself with a group of people whenever possible and ignored his texts until he got the message and left me alone.

The unfortunate part of surrounding myself with people was that Brad Maddox seemed to show up wherever we were. He very slowly began to insinuate himself into my plans.

I really disliked the guy. He was smarmy and arrogant and all-around unpleasant to spend time with. As an added annoyance, he slowly grew increasingly affectionate towards me – throwing his arm over my shoulder, kissing my cheek. I really hated it.

But I didn't hate it as much as Dean seemed to, which is what kept me from breaking his arm every time he touched me.

It finally came to a head about four weeks after my meeting with Rick and David.

We were all hanging out in a bar after the show. Brad was being unusually aggressive tonight, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist and his mouth close to my ear, talking incessantly for most of the night.

I finally broke away to get a drink, making my way to the complete opposite side of the bar so I could be away from him that much longer.

I'd just ordered when an arm wrapped around my waist from behind. I groaned internally, figuring that Brad had followed me.

"I can break his nose for you," a more familiar voice said low in my ear. "I was planning on doing it anyway, but I can say that it's in your honor if you'd like."

I shook my head, a small smile on my face. "Leave the poor kid alone, Ambrose."

"No."

His hand began to lightly play along the waistband of my jeans. My physical response to his touch was immediate, and I drew in a deep breath to try and calm myself down.

He must have felt it; he chuckled next to my ear. "Do you miss me, Lizzy?"

I took my drink from the bartender with a smile and turned around to head back towards the table without giving him an answer. But it was Dean, so he was having none of that.

He caught my arm and pulled me back, dragging me to an unoccupied corner. "I asked you a question," he said, wagging his finger in my face.

"Put that down before I bite it off," I snapped at him.

He smiled, but it looked more like he was baring his teeth. "You do, don't you? You miss having me around."

"No," I replied honestly. "I don't miss _you_ at all." I took a long swig of my beer, because it was going to pain me to say this next bit. "I do, on occasion, miss certain parts of your anatomy."

The right side of his mouth curled upward briefly, and he reached out to wrap one arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

"I miss you," he murmured, burying his nose in my hair and inhaling deeply.

"You should have thought of that before you decided to be childish and mess with a good thing."

He pulled away from me, pursing his lips and looking sour. He traced his fingers over my collarbone. "Lizzy," he finally said, "I've had a lot of time to think about this. Having a part of you is better than having none of you. If you were willing, I'd be more than happy to revisit our previous arrangement. I'll keep everything casual."

I looked up at him, my doubt obviously written across my face.

"Please," he said, the word sounding odd coming out of his mouth.

I was about to say no. After all, why in my right mind would I walk back into that viper's nest? The idea suddenly shoved through my brain, and I paused.

"I should say no," I said, looking away from him.

"You probably should," he agreed.

I was quiet for a few moments, pretending to mull everything over before I sighed heavily. "I can't stay away from you, Dean," I said tiredly, reaching up to rub my forehead with my free hand. "I don't know what it is about you."

His mouth twitched with a smile. "Finish your beer," he said, trailing his fingers down my side. "Then let's get out of here. I have a lot of lost time to make up for."


	3. Chapter 3

We were both absolutely frantic; impatiently pulling only the required amount of clothing off while our lips were locked together.

When Dean finally pushed inside of me, for the first time in a long time I felt like the world had been put right-side-up after spinning on a tilted axis. That feeling troubled me, but I quite quickly lost my ability for coherent thought.

It didn't take long for both of us to have intense orgasms, and Dean rolled off of me and lay panting beside me for a few minutes before getting up and struggling into his pants.

"Where are you going?" I asked, reaching out for his hand.

"I told you I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice, Lizzy," he said, turning back towards me as he buckled his belt. My eyes lingered on it for a moment, my brain still moving slowly, before I spoke up.

"I'm not done with you yet," I said clearly. "You're staying here tonight."

He tried to keep his grin from shining through on his face, but he failed. "I thought sleeping in the same bed was going to blur the lines for you too much?"

I brought myself up to my knees and wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him intensely. "Who said that we were going to sleep?"

He sighed contentedly, returning my kiss with just as much fervor before making his way back onto the bed.

He shoved me down onto my back and hovered over me, kissing my face and neck before undressing me completely. He paused briefly to pull his own shirt off, and I lightly trailed my fingers over his skin. I could grudgingly admit that he had a certain aesthetic appeal to him, and I was more than happy to look at and touch him.

He came down and licked each of my nipples in turn before finally settling to suck on one, his fingers pinching the other. I gasped when I felt his teeth lightly bite, and immediately pressed my hips towards him.

He laughed. "Still so impatient, Lizzy," he murmured, moving up to kiss my neck. "You said it yourself; I'm not going anywhere tonight." I turned my head and kissed him, biting his lower lip. He moaned in my mouth before pulling away. "I need a few more minutes," he murmured, kissing me again briefly.

He slid down my body and began teasing me with his fingers before he started to use his tongue. I sighed happily, reaching down to lightly stroke my hands through his hair.

He started out a bit more slowly than he used to, taking time to play and tease me before he began to really work at it.

It had been a masterful idea; I'd been working on a slow build towards a powerful orgasm, and when he finally reached his usual level of involvement I was desperate for it, and desperate for him.

Of course, he knew that. Ambrose and I knew each other entirely too well, I was discovering.

He wrenched himself away, his pupils dilated. I only had needed a brief glance to tell me that he'd very much enjoyed what he'd been doing.

When he thrust inside of me this time, I came nearly immediately. Ambrose pinned my arms to the bed and kissed me gently, still moving inside of me.

"I love you," he said in my ear as I came down. He then didn't give me a chance to respond, pressing his lips tightly against mine and thrusting violently until he came.

After he'd caught his breath, he glanced at me curiously to gauge my reaction to what he'd said. I elected to act completely normally, a sudden bolt of clarity coming to me.

I'd let Dean think that things were normal for a little while. I'd let him get used to the idea of having me around, of having sex with me and sleeping with me. I'd let him think that maybe, just maybe, I was starting to care about him.

And then I'd burn his world to the ground like he'd done to me.

I had to keep myself from smiling.


	4. Chapter 4

I woke up the following morning and Dean was still there, awake and staring at me with a softness in his expression that I'd never seen before.

"You're still here," I said, my voice thick with sleep. He nodded, and I could see the shadow of doubt cross his face. I smiled, closing my eyes and moving closer to him, sighing contentedly. "Good," I murmured. "My feet are freezing." I stuck my cold feet on his warm legs.

I could feel him laughing as he wrapped his arms around me, his hand coming up to gently stroke my hair out of my face.

"I can't stay too much longer," he said quietly. "I have some stuff to take care of this morning."

"All right," I replied, nuzzling into his neck.

He was quiet for a few minutes. "Liz," he finally said, gently pulling me back to look me in the eye, "what's changed in you?"

I tried to meet his gaze and found that I couldn't. "I don't know," I replied. It was at least partially the truth. "There's just something about being with you this time that feels right. I mean, I've learned that I can't stay away from you. Maybe this is just the next step. I really don't know."

I could see him struggling to pull his smile back and nod soberly. He leaned forward and kissed me again. "Take your time, ok?" He said, pressing his forehead against mine. "I'm not going to push you."

I probably should have felt bad. Here he was, being sweet and kind and gentle while I just dreamed of exacting a measure of revenge. But I'd become so blinded that it only made me happy to think that he was buying it.

Our next few days were relatively uneventful. Brad Maddox walked into the arena that night with a black eye and a sour disposition, which made me smile. Dean gave me a grin from across the room when I noticed his handiwork. We spent a lot of time together, having sex and gradually becoming more cuddly and intimate.

He seemed happy for the first time since I'd known him.

I realized how seriously he was taking this when, after four days, he asked me if I wanted him to break things off with Becky.

I considered it for a few moments. If I agreed, there was no turning back – I would be altering his life and he would buy into the idea of us completely. If I didn't agree, he might suspect something else was afoot.

I told him that I didn't know yet. It seemed to be the safest answer, and he seemed all right with that answer.

But the next night, he was in a foul mood. He went out and beat on Wade Barrett mercilessly, or at least tried to – Wade managed to get more than his share of blows in, and as a result Dean limped to the back.

I avoided him while we were at the arena, but he was waiting by my car when I got out.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

He shrugged, grimacing at the movement. "I've been worse."

I stepped up to him and grabbed the lapels of his leather jacket. "What were you doing?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Just wanted to fight," he snapped.

I stared at him for a few minutes, seeing through his bullshit. "Come on, Ambrose. Talk to me."

He glanced away, his tongue rolling over his teeth. "I'm getting impatient with you," he admitted. "I'm very quickly reaching my breaking point."

I met his eyes and sighed. "I understand. Maybe we should stop this."

He shook his head vehemently. "No. I just want to know that there's something worth waiting for. I want to know that this isn't another dead-end with you."

It became suddenly apparent that it had to be tonight.

"Come home with me," I said gently, reaching up and tousling his already-messy hair. "Let me take care of you."

He sneered at me with disgust. "I'm not interested in sex."

I shook my head. "I didn't say anything about sex." I stood up on my toes and lightly kissed him. When I pulled back, I could see the relief on his face. "Come on," I repeated, gesturing towards my car. "We can talk more when you're feeling a bit better."


	5. Chapter 5

He seemed to slowly pull himself out of his bad mood as we drove back to the hotel.

I was nervous and briefly considered abandoning my plan altogether. Maybe I could just give Dean a chance. Maybe there had been enough anger and enough pain between the two of us, and this could be a fresh start.

Then his phone rang and, glancing at me briefly, he picked it up and proceeded to have a conversation with Becky.

I was reminded that he'd robbed me of that. He'd robbed me of the chance to share my day and my life with someone I cared about. Not that our romantic situations were at all comparable, but it was just enough of a reminder of what I'd lost that it steeled my resolve.

He deserved this.

We made our way to my hotel room, where I immediately tugged his shirt off and pushed him to a seated position on the bed.

"I thought you said no sex," he said, reaching out to trail his fingers down my side as I started to work at his belt.

I smiled, but it felt tight and foreign. "No sex," I confirmed, pulling his belt through the loops and tugging his pants down his hips. He obliged me by lifting himself off the bed and kicking them the rest of the way off. "Lay down on your stomach."

He glanced at me curiously, but complied. I straddled his hips and began rubbing his back, kneading away the tension in his shoulders.

He sighed contentedly. "You're really good at this," he said, turning his head so I could see his face in profile.

"So I've heard," I replied, focusing on a particularly nasty knot inside his right shoulder blade. "Just try to relax and let me work."

I rubbed him until my wrists began to ache and his eyelids dropped. He was breathing deep and evenly, his face a picture of complete peace.

I very slowly moved away from him, trying not to disturb his sleep. I had more reasons for this than just being considerate.

As quietly as I possibly could, I went to my bag and uncovered the two sets of handcuffs I'd bought recently. I returned to the bed and clipped one bracelet from each set onto the rail connected the headboard to the bed. Then, moving quickly rather than quietly, I went to secure one of Dean's hands in each cuff that was free.

He woke up just as I was snapping the first one shut. I expected him to struggle, but all he did was laugh and present his other arm for me.

"You didn't have to put me to sleep for this," he said conversationally. "Although it was very nice of you."

I slapped him on the back of the head, quickly clicking the other cuff shut. "Shut up."

"My little Lizzy, _finally_ getting tough. I'm so proud."

"Shut up, Ambrose."

"Why Liz? Finding it tough to focus with me talking? Why don't you start talking then – what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"I'm giving you everything you deserve," I replied evenly.

"Hm."

It was a very odd response. This wasn't going at all how I wanted it to, and I found my stomach tied in knots.

"After all this time, you're just now getting around to this? Oh Lizzy. I thought I'd broken you long before now. While I'm happy to see that there's still just a little bit of fight left in you, you should know that unless this is an elaborate plan to have kinky sex, I'm going to be a fucking bastard when you let me out of these."

"I don't intend for you to be conscious by then."

He laughed. "You talk so tough, sweetheart – but I don't think you have it in you."

"No?" I asked, reaching down to pick up his belt. "You don't think I have any sort of anger in me?"

I brought the belt up over my shoulder and brought it down with all of my strength on his back. His cry of pain cut him off mid-reply and a string of curse words flew out of his mouth instead.

"What do you think now?" I asked.

"You fucking cunt," he spat.

"Shouldn't have said that," I replied evenly, bringing my arm up once again.


	6. Chapter 6

I beat his back until it was bloody and raw.

He gave up yelling a few minutes in and took the beating stoically, but my arm tired out before he passed out. I physically couldn't lift the belt any longer.

When it had become apparent that I'd reached my limit, I heard a low, pained chuckle emanating from him.

"I warned you, Elizabeth. I told you that you didn't have it in you. I hope you're planning on killing me now, sweetheart, because otherwise I am going to make you suffer."

I gripped his hair in my fist and shoved his face into the pillow roughly, holding until he started to struggle before I let him up. He was gasping for breath.

"We're going to talk for a few minutes, Dean," I said calmly. Hitting him had been cathartic in a way, and I felt clear-headed for the first time in a while. "I'm going to make sure you understand exactly what line you finally crossed."

I went into his pants pocket and pulled out his cigarettes and lighter, sitting on the opposite bed before I lit one up.

He glanced at me enviously while I inhaled.

"I could handle the violence. I could handle the sex – no, let's call it what it was, shall we – I could handle the rape. I could handle the stalking, the constant intrusions in my life. I even handled your attempts to discredit me and throw me in a mental institution. But what you don't understand is that all of that built a base. It pushed me closer and closer towards the edge, so that something as minor as you sabotaging my relationship shoved me over it."

His brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about David. You took my redemption away from me, Dean. You took away the one good thing I'd had in my life for the past year. You can't do that to someone and not face any consequences."

He laughed bitterly. "Ain't this some shit," he muttered. "I had nothing to do with it."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not. What reason do I have to lie to you? You've already given me a taste of my own medicine – effective, might I add; I must commend you on that – I have no reason to try to appease you right now. I've already told you I'm going to give you just as good as I received when you let me out. You know me well enough that a little case of mistaken identity still isn't going to prevent that particular joy from falling on your head."

"All talk," I replied, bored. "I'll be amazed if you can move."

"Don't discount me, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't you dare. That would be a grave error on your part."

I elected to move away from this particular topic and back to the business at hand, although I would be lying if I didn't say that I was starting to feel a small tingle of fear in my spine.

"So if it wasn't you, who was it? Who called David and told him that I was oh-so happy on the road and would never leave?"

"How the fuck should I know? Who am I, fucking Houdini?" He turned his head as much as he could to look at me. "Do you really think that if I wanted you to stay, I'd need to do that? Do you really think I'd need you to stay to make my mark on your life? And after all this time, I felt like you were starting to know me."

I let his words sink through me. I didn't want to trust him, but I found that I did.

"All right," I finally said, a hard lump forming in my chest. "I'm willing to believe you."

"Good. Then come over here and take these fucking handcuffs off of me before I really lose my temper."

I hesitated. "Are you going to hurt me?"

"Yes. And the longer you wait, the worse it's going to be. So come over here and take your lumps while I'm still in a good mood."

I could sense the wisdom in those words and, hating myself just a little bit, I went to unlock his wrist.

The minute his hand was free, it shot up and wrapped tightly around my throat.


	7. Chapter 7

He brought my face down to his level. I'd never seen him look so angry – it was almost as if his face was carved out of stone.

"Drop that key on the bed," he growled. I did it immediately, and he let go of me. I staggered back, gasping and clutching at my neck while he unlocked his other hand and stood up.

He shoved me down onto my knees and slapped me hard across the face. "Get up." He grabbed my elbow and yanked me to my feet, only to shove me down onto my back on the bed.

He wrenched my hands above my head painfully and fastened the cuffs around me, grumbling all the while.

When he was done, he straddled me and stared at me for a long while. The expression on his face was dark and brooding, and I found myself very concerned for my safety with him for the first time in a long time.

"I should kill you," he said, shaking his head angrily. "I should kill you and be done with all this."

"Then do it," I taunted him. Not my smartest move. "Just put me out of my fucking misery."

His nostrils flared and he slapped me again, even harder than the first time. "Don't talk like that." He paused, still staring at me. "There's no me without you, Elizabeth. If I killed you, I'd have to kill myself. I can't stand the thought of living in a world without you in it."

He scratched his nails across his chest hard enough to draw blood.

"I don't know why you keep doing this to me. I don't know why you insist on ripping my heart out over and over again, but I know that I can't do anything but keep coming back and hoping to God that things will change. I can't _not_ have you."

He bent and kissed me fiercely, his teeth biting into my lip.

"Stop fucking _doing this to me_. _Please_. I don't know how much longer I can keep myself under control."

"You call this being under fucking control?" I raised my voice, incredulous. "Do you see what you're doing right now?"

"Did you see what you did to me? Yes, I think I'm pretty under fucking control right now considering that you beat me fucking bloody with my own fucking belt for something that I didn't even do."

I glanced away from him, closing my eyes.

"Let's just stop this," he said. "Please. I am begging you, Liz. I am begging you to just let this happen. You've been battling against it for so long."

I swallowed hard and took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm fighting it because I don't want you. You're not ever going to understand that, are you?"

He shook his head. "How deep in denial fucking are you, lady? You don't want me, but you don't mind fucking me. You don't mind kissing me. You don't mind hanging out around me. Are you fucking delusional?"

"Fucking you doesn't mean that I want to be with you. I would've thought you would know that by now."

He glared down at me, mussing his hair with the back of his head while he thought. "You don't want me," he said flatly.

"No."

He nodded, pursing his lips, and slowly climbed off of me.

I wasn't relieved. In fact, I was probably more concerned now than before. He went and lit up his own cigarette, sitting on the opposite bed studying me for a long time.

He finally stood up and stubbed out his cigarette.

I glanced over at him curiously, but before I could say anything he was there with me, his mouth on mine. He gripped my breasts tightly and let his lips wander down my neck and over my collarbone.

"Stop it, Dean."

He put his hand over my mouth and continued kissing me, pushing my shirt up to kiss my breasts and nuzzle his face in between them. He moved downward, kissing a path to the waistband of my jeans. As he unbuttoned my pants and tugged them off, he slipped his hand from my mouth and moved my panties aside to begin stroking me.

I closed my eyes against the sudden wave of pleasure rolling out from his fingers. In a few minutes, I found myself gasping and pressing my hips towards him, trying to reach out for him and only hearing the clanking of the handcuffs.

He stopped abruptly. "Look at me, Elizabeth."

I wrenched my eyes open, surprised to see a face that was neither lascivious nor happy.

"You're completely full of shit. You _do_ want me, and for more than just my dick. It's time for you to stop fighting it."

He slid away from me and got dressed. Finally, he came and unlocked me from the headboard. He didn't say a word; he just dropped the keys on the nightstand and limped out the door.


	8. Chapter 8

Ambrose and I avoided each other for the next week. His back was the talk of the locker room; as was my bruised, swollen face. Everyone was pretty sure they knew what had happened, but the story they spun wasn't nearly as disturbing as the truth of it.

I tried very hard not to think about him. I tried very hard not to notice him when he walked by me. But my thoughts and eyes were always drawn towards him anyway.

I was trying to not feel like I'd done the wrong thing. Even if Dean hadn't been the one to tell David I wanted to stay on the road, he'd certainly done enough to make him deserve what had happened.

My half-assed attempts at rationalization didn't help me from feeling disgusting.

I hid in the office most of the time, not wanting to see Dean or any of the other guys. I was too lost in my own thoughts and too lost in general. I knew that I needed to snap out of it and try to find a way to fix everything in my life, but it just seemed too overwhelming for the present.

About a week and a half after everything with Ambrose had happened, I was alone in the office while Paul ran out to finalize some details of the evening. I heard an unfamiliar ringing and saw that he'd left his work phone behind.

Normally I wouldn't have answered it, but I knew he was expecting a few important calls back from Corporate regarding the new contract with 787 and a few of the developmental guys possibly joining the main roster.

I picked it up without looking at the caller ID and subsequently was walloped in the stomach when David started speaking.

"Hi Liz," he said cautiously. "How are you?"

"David," I replied cordially, my heart in my throat. "I'm well, yourself?"

"Same. Is Paul around?"

"He just stepped out. Do you need to speak to him immediately or can I take a message?"

"Message is fine," he said and gave me a quick rundown of why he was calling – some contract nonsense that he was having a tough time with our Legal department about. He wanted to see if Paul could facilitate for him.

"All right, great. I will let him know you called," I said, putting my pen down and reading over my message quickly to make sure it made sense.

"Thanks. Liz…how are you really?"

"I'm fine," I replied, surprised.

"Are you happy, out on the road?"

I sighed. "David, I know that you heard from someone that I wanted to stay. That wasn't true. I was going to leave the night you dumped me."

He was quiet for a long while. "Oh. Oh my."

I nodded. "Yeah. It doesn't change anything, as far as I'm concerned. I am happy on the road, and you honestly probably did both of us a favor. But for my own curiosity, where did you hear that?"

The name he gave me made my jaw drop.


	9. Chapter 9

I found Heyman with Seth, Ro, and Dean – but I didn't care about an audience.

I grabbed him by the shoulder and whipped him around, shoving a piece of paper into his chest. "David called and left a message for you."

"OK…?" Paul said, quickly taking in my appearance and demeanor and obviously waiting for more.

My heart was racing in my chest, my fists clenched by my side. "He also mentioned how difficult you thought it would be to lose me when I mentioned that I was thinking about leaving my job here. So difficult, in fact, that you suggested to him that I shouldn't leave at all because I just loved it so much."

Paul's face went from confused to horribly aware of what was happening.

"Oh shit," I heard Ro say softly.

I bit my tongue to keep from screaming at Heyman. My blood was pounding through my veins so hard that I could actually hear it.

"Liz, listen –"

"No," I cut him off. "I'm done listening. You crossed a line in the worst way humanly possible, and I've had it. After everything I did, after everything I went through, I deserved him. I _deserved_ that life, and you took it away from me for the stupid reason that you wanted a trained assistant. Fuck you, Paul. Fuck you, fuck this place, and fuck this life. I'm out."

I didn't give him a chance to respond. I turned around and walked away, walking out of the arena and out of the business I used to love.


	10. Sequel

Thanks for reading, favoriting, following, messaging, and now tweeting(!) to let me know that you're liking what I'm doing.

Next installment is up, entitled "All I Want is Something Better, Something Safe." I hope you enjoy.

PS: If you're so inclined and are on the Twitter machine, you can find me VitaFidens. It's generally just inane ramblings, but I'll be happy to answer any questions you might have about the stories without giving away too much. :)


End file.
